


Aftermath

by forthelongestday (ftld)



Series: Long Way Down [2]
Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Outtakes, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-11
Updated: 2011-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:34:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27804655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ftld/pseuds/forthelongestday
Summary: Long Way Down one-shots from Jasper's POV.
Relationships: Jasper Hale/Bella Swan
Series: Long Way Down [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2034313
Kudos: 18





	1. Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> Notes from future-ftld:
> 
> I wrote these sporadically, as a way to experiment, and as gifts for the various people who helped me with Long Way Down. Mostly sweeneyanne, who beta'd that fic (and these one-shots).

She's beautiful.

It's the only thing I can comprehend on a conscious level for a good two minutes.

Fucking beautiful.

She's long brown hair tinged with red and streaked with blood. She's wide crimson eyes filled with horror and pain. She's tattered clothes and a spine curved inward. She's a mess; shaking and sobbing and probably hating the hell out of me for turning her into something capable of destruction like this. She's Bella, and this sight is a scar I've inflicted on her that she'll carry for the rest of her existence—that first time her monster roamed free and made her do something she never thought she would.

I shouldn't have done it, I should have let her go. I should have let her die, because changing her wasn't fair and this isn't the way life is supposed to work. This shit wasn't about me—but I made it about me anyway. The pain, guilt, and misery _I_ would feel for failing her.

I could have, I should have...I would do it all over again.

It's just another mistake in a long line of mistakes I've made, and they always seem to come back to her. Fuck-ups of epic proportions. She throws me off balance, she's a wild card I never quite know what to do with. I can't keep my fucking head straight when she's involved, and she's always the one who pays the price for it.

Bella had believed. She had faith, and she shared that with me even though she had no reason to. She loved and trusted and shared, she let me see the darkness that had sprouted and grown within her. She opened herself like a book whose best pages had been ripped out, and let me read the passages that remained. She trusted me and I'd been so blinded and awed that I let that bitch slip right under my radar and into her backyard.

I'd decided already, Alice had seen—but it should have never happened like this. I had a fucking plan, a set of checkboxes to tick off; little pokes, prods, and innocent questions all designed to ensure that when she decided she was ready she'd know I was on board. Logic, strategy, sanity...they were all worthless when it came to Bella.

Over-confident. I'd been so over-confident, and I should have known better.

My plans seem to always end up going wrong when she's involved; my focus splits and the dagger comes from a blind spot I never realized I had. It's her fault and it's not, it's me refusing to remember how I managed to come so far. I try to change the rules, everything crashes down. I revert back to the tried and true method of coldness and apathy, the plan, and it still blows up in my face. No matter what I try I always find myself sucked into all the love she feels and I end up making the situation about her instead of the objective at hand.

It wound up being about Bella, when it should always have been about Victoria.

Once again she's miserable; torn from the people she loves because I've never been able to keep it together when it comes to her. There's been words someone else should have told her, airports, and paper-cuts—but those were things I could atone for. I could yell at Edward for being a jackass, or destroy the bastard that broke her limbs. I could apologize and step up to be there for her when she didn't have anyone left. All those things I could try to make up for, ease the pain of them even if it was just a little bit.

This time...this time there's nothing I can do, because this time I actually fucking killed her.

She's just sitting there in a pool of blood and guts, and I can't feel her but I know exactly what she's feeling anyway. It's always the same, and she's always so different. Loving when she should hate, calm when she should be furious, and now she's sobbing because she actually feels bad for what she's done.

I hold her because she needs it, and maybe I need it a little bit too.

I lie to her because I want to believe that it's true, and because she needs to hope that someday it will be.

We rock and she cries, and I exhale all the breath I have left in my lungs so that when I breathe in it'll be all her—from now on everything has to be about her. There's no me left in this equation, I've already done enough damage. I'd like to say that my needs and wants would go unfulfilled from here on out in favor of hers, but somewhere along the line my priorities shifted, and the only thing I really need is already here with me. I can't believe I let this happen.

I silently swear that I'll get her through this even if I have to drag her kicking and screaming the whole way. Even if it means in the end she'll hate me. Even if when all is said and done she wants to leave, because I've gotta make up for the sick, disgusting part of me that's actually pleased things turned out this way.

What it comes down to is that I need to square my shoulders and buck the fuck up, because Bella can't be strong anymore. Not for awhile, not like she used to be—I have to do it for her. I need to bury the guilt, repress, and focus.

I have to force myself to be okay with what's happened, come to terms with all I've done wrong in her lifetime so when she falls I can hold her up. I have to steel myself and take deep breaths, and on the count of five be over it—and it's hard, but I do it, because it's for her instead of for me.

Still, nothing can erase the suddenly obvious fact that there's a distinct difference between feeling and _feeling,_ and that wide margin is ripping my heart straight out of my chest. I know exactly what's happened here today, and it's something I can't tell her until she figures it out for herself. Not until her head clears and her senses calm, not until she's okay again. The prospect makes me want to explode against the earth and just give the fuck up, because I have no idea if I have a shot in hell at pulling this off without completely ruining what little is left.

I'd thought that maybe this could happen, allowed myself a small sliver of hope that night I held her together and rationalized kicking the shit out the dog that had dared to hurt her feelings. She was human, and therefore an unknown. I laid in her bed and pretended to sleep, to dream that it wasn't Edward, but maybe it could be me.

Checklists, rationalizations. Logic, because when it came down to it Edward's feelings for her weren't so different from my own; he'd cared for her in his own way, and so had I. I'd laid there and hoped, and midway through the night had the completely subjective and soul shattering revelation that Edward hadn't been the only one who wanted to die when Alice had her vision—but he was the only one stupid enough to try and go through with it. Edward had wanted to be a martyr, I'd just wanted the world to wither and die along with me.

We just keep rocking and swaying, and I make her promises I don't know if I can keep, but I'll try harder than she'll ever know.

I want to go back and do it all over, stop myself from fucking up every single time it mattered.

I want to fast-forward and see how this is going to end so I can steady my resolve and make sure I've done right by her when it's all over.

I want, and I wish, and I want...and I have to stop that shit, because it's too fucking late to change anything. The instinct has set in, and now comes the choice. Her choice, it has to be her choice, because I made that decision weeks ago on a nondescript afternoon in Washington. I picked her long before the vampire in me asked me to, and now it's her turn.

We're always in the middle of the woods when these things happen, and she's always so fucking beautiful.


	2. Four Letters

The more days pass the more I'm starting to think that this mate thing is nothing more than bullshit.

She cries, I hold her.

She bloodies herself, I clean her off.

She falls, I catch her.

I would have done all of these things anyway, they were actions I owed her, gestures she'd earned, and desires that I already had.

It meant nothing, that was the only logical conclusion. Somehow she'd managed to negate the entire instinctual drive and render it completely unnecessary. It made sense, in the way that she never did. Nothing was ever normal with Bella involved.

It was just a word, four letter that failed to define the complexity of my feelings. It was seemingly meaningless, and I want to know why, how. So I quietly muse and contemplate in the background while Bella stumbles her way through life as a vampire much like she had during her time as a human.

The answer drops off Bella's lips and right into my lap.

She says maybe this was always meant to happen, not knowing the weight of her words, and maybe she's right. Maybe this was something that was always meant to be and always has been, maybe I'd been wrong when I told her the bond of mates was impossible with a human. She couldn't achieve it, and I would have known if she somehow had, but I'd been capable this entire time.

Maybe a few of these thousand ropes tying me to her have always been there.

Backwards and upside-down. Our entire world had always been turned on it's head.

It was time to confess, there was no more avoidance. I had to call them, tell them what had happened if they didn't know already. Bella's fled for the safety of trees and grass, and now that she's out there and I'm still here there's absolutely no use in pretending I'm not going to tell them everything.

For the first time in my life my fingers tremble as I hit the buttons. My normally strategic brain is in overdrive and chaos rapidly trying to construct sentences and phrasing that will accurately explain this cluster-fuck without bringing down the wrath of the Cullen clan on my head.

This is the absolute last thing I want to be doing right now.

A soft click sounds, and then the line is ringing, and why the hell am I not hanging up?

"Hello, Jasper," thunders through the earpiece in mild irritation, and all I can think is, 'Fuck, fuck, fuck.'

"Carlisle," I answer instead.

"To what do I owe this pleasure? I had begun to think that we'd never hear from you again." In retrospect maybe I shouldn't have ignored all his calls.

He knows, it's already obvious he does, his tone and words all scream disapproval. If he doesn't know everything he at least is aware that I've taken his daughter and hidden her away.

"We need to talk about a few things."

"I'm inclined to agree with you."

Silence. Neither of us wants to make the first move.

"Is she alive?" Carlisle finally asks, opening with the one question that has the potential to break the ever weakening hold I have on my composure.

"In a way," I respond casually, because fuck if I'm going to let him know that he's gotten to me already.

"You need to bring her home, Jasper."

"No."

"What makes you think this is your decision?" It seems I've gotten to Carlisle, too.

"I don't think it's my decision. I think it's Bella's. She hasn't asked to go to you, and I'm not going to force her."

"She doesn't know what's best for her right now, she needs to be with her family so she can make her way through this."

If I didn't know it was impossible I would have sworn I could feel his righteousness flowing over the phone line. It's times like these I find myself firmly in favor of nurture over nature, because this is exactly where Edward got all that shit from.

"Her family? Do you really think she still considers you that?" I ask bitingly, and this conversation is going downhill so fast that I don't think either of us are going to be able to keep up. "You left her. You left her for some insane notion that you could get her back on your terms instead of hers. How could you think to call yourself her family now?"

"Edward would have gone back, it was only a matter of time. You know this."

Certainty.

"Maybe, but she doesn't want to be with him," I reply, and my certainty is so much more impressive than Carlisle's because mine is built on fact rather than speculation.

"We love her, she belongs with us."

Possessiveness.

"She's so far above you it isn't even comprehensible," I spit.

"I just want my daughter to come home, Jasper."

Desperation.

"If she wants to then I will make it happen, but she hasn't asked for you, and she didn't even want to be in the house while I made this call."

"You've let her roam around alone?"

Mistrust, horror.

It's almost fun, this little game I've come up with.

"Do you think so little of me? Do you really think I'd let her run around by herself if there was any possibility of her killing someone?"

"Where are you?"

"We're safe," I reply firmly, because there's no way in fucking hell I'm telling him where we are just so he can come down here on his white horse and whisk her away from me.

"Jasper..." Carlisle says, his voice as close to a growl as I've ever heard it.

"There's something else."

Deep breaths in and out. Of course Bella had to leave for this call, now I have no way to convince myself not to admit everything. I have to tell him, he'll never leave us be if he thinks I have Edward's mate hidden away.

"Yes?"

"Something happened..." and I lose all of my words, because how the fuck do you tell someone something like this?

"What happened, Jasper?" Carlisle asks, softer, kinder.

"She's not Edward's mate."

"How do you figure that?" he questions, I can tell from his tone that he's dreading my answer.

"Because she's mine."

Silence falls over us again, and I pace, because what else is there to do while you're waiting for your former Coven leader to digest the news that you've stolen away his son's girlfriend?

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"She loves you?" he asks, and I blow out a breath. He's not going to take this well.

"I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

There's the indignation I've been waiting for.

"I can't feel her anymore, and I haven't told her any of this."

"You have to tell her, Jasper!"

Anger.

"No I don't. I don't want her to love me because she feels like she has to."

"If you don't tell her, I will."

Threat.

"If she ever decides to speak to you again."

And I have him. This is checkmate. He knows there's nothing he can do.

"Keep us updated," he orders, and I agree because I know it's the one thing he can try to force out of me, and I'm willing to give it to him.

Another soft click and it's all over, and I'm left stewing.

An hour of self-imposed solitary confinement later a quiet voice calls out in the hallway, and my chest aches. I don't know if I'm doing the right thing, if I'm doing more damage by keeping silent, but I have to give her this choice. She deserves to choose who she wants to love for herself.

She looks sad when I open the door, and the war that's raging over her face tells me that she wants to ask but she doesn't want to know.

"You okay?" she finally says with a tilt of her head.

I can't lie to her, not about this, but I don't have to tell her everything either.

"Yeah, it was just a difficult conversation that needed to be had."

I stare out the window while she contemplates the understatement of the year, but turn back toward her when I hear her walking around the room.

She's staring at the books, longing painted all over her body.

"Pick one."

She selects the volume eagerly, and I'm almost as enthusiastic when I pluck it from the shelf and settle myself on the floor. I feel like a con man when I get her to press her back against my chest and let me wind my arms around her, but my intentions are good. She wants this, she needs something normal right now, and I can rationalize away that nagging in my head that screams that this is wrong because she doesn't know it means more to me.

It's torture and bliss, and I focus on flipping pages as she needs so I won't give into the urge to press closer, pull, touch...

I could tell her, I could be selfish and throw another wrench in her works, and my mouth opens to say those four fucking letters—but then she sighs and shifts and everything else fades away. She's content, maybe even happy, and I won't ruin it for her. She gets so few of these peaceful moments nowadays.

I'll wait.

I'll wait forever, as long as I can keep flipping pages.


	3. Peter

Curiosity and hope and confusion and happiness and understanding and pleasure and sympathy and...and...and...

I flee the moment I'm sure Bella will be okay, Charlotte's emotions chasing after me as I bolt out the door and little more than stumble through the forest as I try to put one foot in front of the other.

It's too much, too fast...they'd flooded me the second they pulled into the driveway, sank me deep under the water and drowned me in all they felt. I've never felt so much like I need air, and I can't breathe under all this weight.

This is not a gift, not today. Not with every single little thing Peter and Charlotte felt during those agonizing twenty minutes seeping into my bones, flowing through my veins, and refusing to leave my body. I can't remember how I'd ever managed to survive this assault, or how the fuck I'd tolerated living with six vampires—but I hadn't known anything else back then, and I've become spoiled by the peace of Bella's shield.

It's poison I've lost my tolerance for, and I have two hours to get it back.

Gotta run, gotta find Peter, gotta get it together.

He's to the south, and I close my eyes and force myself to concentrate on feeling without absorbing as I lean back against the rough bark of a tree.

Breathe. Gotta breathe, gotta focus.

I learned to shut it all out once before, and I'll do it again. I have to if there's any hope of maintaining any semblance of normalcy—but it's harder than I remember, and it takes a few minutes to even sort out which emotions are my own.

Panic, that one's definitely me.

The humor is probably mine too, because it's kind of funny that Bella's the one who did this to me.

 _'Jesus, sometimes I wish I could just_ turn you off.'

I wonder if she even realizes she did. Over two months now I've been living as just a man, and now I have to figure out how to cope with the reintroduction of my gift. I've spent all this time mourning that I can't feel her, and now I kind of wish it would all go back. I hadn't realized just how nice it was, how much less effort it took to keep steady when the only emotions I felt were mine.

"Never pegged you as a masochist." I didn't even heard him coming. I've lost my touch.

"Fuck you," I grind out between clenched teeth as I struggle to get control of myself. "I didn't think it was gonna be this bad."

I didn't think it was going to be like a wrecking ball to the chest.

His tangled web of emotions snake through the last yards between us and wrap around my neck, and _fuck_ , I can't breathe.

"Just calm down. Stop forcing it," Peter commands in his thick drawl, and I have to force myself to take his advice, to just relax.

I sink to the ground as he moves closer, trying to let the calm he's sending my way wash over me while keeping the rest out. Peter's always been good at controlling his emotions.

"You should have told me that might happen, Jasper. We wouldn't have come the way we did."

"I can handle it."

"I'm not talking 'bout you, asshole. Far as I'm concerned you deserve whatever shit's got you so fucked up right now. I'm talking 'bout that poor girl I just scared the hell out of."

Bella. I don't like that he feels protective of her already. There's some annoyance there, too, but I'm sure that one's for me.

"She'll be fine, she's tough." I reply evenly, and my chest swells, because I'm so damn proud of that girl. His irritation comes in waves at my reply, and I can't help but get a little jab in, "'Sides, does you some good to have to work for it."

"Very funny."

He actually thinks it is, but only a little.

"I didn't think she'd react so strongly, it's my fault. I shouldn't have told her everything I did."

"What did you tell her?"

"More than I ever told you." The words fall out of my mouth and I'm a little surprised that it's true. I haven't told anyone as much as I've confessed to her. Once I started I hadn't been able to stop, it'd felt too good to finally get it all out.

"How'd she take it?" It's almost sweet that he's so concerned.

"In stride. She always does," and pride wells up in me all over again.

"Get a hold of your gift, fucker."

Jesus, I'm projecting, probably have been for months and never even realized it. It's harder than I remember to pull it all back and wall it off.

"That's better," Peter says with a nod before going straight for the kill. "You didn't tell me you love her."

"Nope, and if I could keep a hold of myself you wouldn't know now." There's going to be no stopping him and Char, they're such meddlesome bastards.

"You couldn't have kept it secret for long, I know you too well. You're different now, I can see it," he counters with certainty, and I know he's right. He would have figured it out within hours. "She's your mate?"

I nod my confirmation as I finally manage to suck in a breath. "She doesn't know, and you can't say anything to her about it."

This time I'm ready for the waves of shock and sympathy that wash over me.

"Are you sure that's a good idea? From what you've told me about her...she doesn't seem the type to appreciate the withholding of information."

"She's not. She'll probably kill me for it, but she's young and she's still getting a handle on herself. I'm not going to add to everything she's already dealing with, and I'm not going to make her feel like it's out of her control. She'll make this choice when she's ready, and I trust her to tell me when that happens. I can wait, I have forever, and now she does, too."

"I won't lie to her for you," Peter vows, and I have to smile a little at his nature. I'd expect nothing less from him.

"I would never assume you would."

I like to think I don't lie to her either, not outright anyway—but I don't always tell her everything, and there's little difference between the two. Besides, she lies to me all the time.

"You doin' better?" he asks, closing the topic for now and I nod. It's getting easier to keep the wall between us, to desensitize myself again. "Good."

"I told them two hours, we've still got some time before we need to head back."

I want to go back now, but I've barely got a hold of myself and this time alone with Charlotte will be good for Bella. It hurts to think that I can't fill all of her needs, but I know it's true. She needs someone else to talk to, she needs a friend who doesn't have an agenda.

"You never told me why you picked Wyoming," he says in that voice that means he already knows the answer, and I shake my head at his incredibly blunt attempt to get to the point he wants to make. "You could have brought her down to New Mexico."

I answer him anyway, "I don't think she would've fared so well meeting you two like that, besides, you know what this place is for me. This is where I go when I screw up."

The two of us have always been fond of redundancy.

"You couldn't have screwed up that badly, she's alive isn't she?"

"Doesn't mean I didn't still kill her."

"Doesn't mean you didn't save her life, too," Peter retorts, and I send some acceptance his way. It's like riding a bike.

He's right, and it's something I've already come to accept a little. Bella's spent the better part of the past month hammering it into my head.

"So tell me, what exactly are you planning to do to win her over?" Peter asks, adding a wink for good measure as he continues, "She's a looker, that's for damn sure."

I'd been ready to give him a scathing look and tell him that I wasn't actively trying to win her over just yet. She needed more time, needed to come into her own a little bit before I started throwing obstacles in her way, but his words shut me as soon as they come out of his mouth, and for a second all I can think is, 'Fuck, I miss her tits.'

"You're pathetic," Peter points out, knowing that my silence and probable outpouring of lust is nothing more than complete confirmation of his observation.

"I know," I groan, letting my head fall back into the bark of the tree I'm leaning against. "Fuck, what happened to me?"

"It's the power of love," he grins, sarcasm dripping from his words. "Don't worry, Char's probably caught on by now. She'll do your heavy lifting and give you some time to find those balls of yours."

"I hate the two of you sometimes."

"No you don't."

And fuck me if the cocky son of a bitch isn't right. I've missed having him around.

"I'm not completely worthless. I already know she likes me, at least a little," I say with a barely repressed snicker, 'cause the girl can dial a cell phone and she expects me to believe she can't turn the pages of a book.

"I could have told you that from the entire sixty seconds I've spent in her presence," Peter shoots back, and my scathing look finally makes an appearance.

"Remind me again why I invited you and not just Charlotte?"

"'Cause you if you didn't, those two would team up against you faster than you could say, 'Oh, fuck me, I sure wish Peter was here.'"

"Yeah," I laugh, "that's true." It'll probably happen anyway, at least this way I'll have someone on my side.

"You know I meant it before, you're different. She's good for you." He's radiating approval, and I'm sure my happiness seeps out just a little at the sentiment.

"You'd be hard pressed to find someone who isn't better for knowing her." God knows I am, and even though most of them hadn't improved enough to reach the level of decent, the Cullens were, too.

"Am I right in assuming that she'll react better if I don't apologize for scaring her?" Peter asks, reaching out a hand to pull me to my feet.

"Yeah, she's probably pretty embarrassed. Best not to focus on it too much."

"Assurance it is. Lead the way, fucker."


	4. Teeth

It starts with teeth.

This time it started with my teeth, and I honestly can't figure out how I ever thought that might lead to anything but pain, because it never has before.

It ends with a kiss.

One press of lips to skin and mouth and she's gone before she's even started running, and before I even realize I've done it I've let her go; I'm left staring blankly at the door as it swings on its hinges, wrestling with this new and sudden onset of anger and frustration toward everything in sight because once again that just wasn't good enough.

It's been months.

Months of uncertainty and doubt pushed callously to the side in favor of getting her to this point, this moment. Right here, right now, and I still can't get it right—but it doesn't really matter because she's not looking for it. A little part of me wishes that I could hate her for all of this, but it passes quickly with guilt quick on its tail; she's probably just not ready to see what's happened between us, and I'd known this wasn't going to be easy.

Still, nearly six months of repressed frustration is boiling inside me, and the pressure is building too high to keep it in anymore.

I hate the fuck out of this goddamned house, this stupid sofa, and that far too innocent beige splashed across the walls—it's all tainted, it all belongs to her, and no matter what happens it always will. I know that if this ends badly I'm never gonna be able to come back here again, and fuck, this is _my_ purgatory. This is my place for grief and atonement, and I foolishly let myself believe that maybe Bella could turn it into something better than that, and it's just too hard for me to remember that maybe she still can.

I'm pissed at Peter, because he tried and tried to tell me to step up and do something, but he never pushed just a little bit too hard.

Charlotte's the easiest, because really, is it so much to ask for her to just give a shove in the right direction?

Mostly I'm just mad at myself—at what I've become, because before she came along I never would have let myself get all caught up and twisted backwards over something so far outside of anyone's control.

I never would have let such a minor victory inspire me to forget all the carefully constructed scenarios I'd concocted, and somewhere between despising absolutely everything and trying to figure out what the hell happened tonight, I decide that Peter will have all the answers—and he does, just not the ones I want.

'Yes, Jasper, there is something wrong with you—it's that you've completely lost your balls. Have you tried looking in the last place you had them?'

At least he's promised to send Char out to find her.

It takes a lot to convince myself that his words aren't why I sprawl out on top of Bella's bed and stare at the ceiling rafters that were step two in this monstrous fuck-up of mine.

Really, I just want to know how the hell she always manages to do this, how with the bat of her eye she can ensure that absolutely _nothing_ goes according to plan every single time.

All she had to do was turn one goddamned page in a book, and all sanity flew right out the window, and I threw everything away on that pitiful excuse of a kiss.

It could have been hard, could have been throw her back and pry her lips open and just drown. It could have been all those first kisses I'd imagined over the months rolled up into one, and instead I let it be a soft congratulations, a thank you, when it shoulda been an 'I love the fuck outta you.'

The regret's almost enough to make me want to just stop, stop everything and retrace my steps and get back to that place we were in back in Forks—but you can't stop something like this. No matter what I tell myself as I lay here, when I get up she's still going to be long and soft brown hair, wide eyes trying to be brave when she doesn't understand the world around her, and little lies told just because she likes the feel of my arms around her.

She'll still be the first person who ever completely believed in me with no reservations, regardless of all the evidence that she shouldn't. She'll be forgiveness, small smiles, and trying to make me feel better when she's so fucked up she doesn't even know how bad she's hurting.

She'll always be that little girl who put on boots two sizes too big and got pissed off 'cause she couldn't even walk in them, much less run. She'll always pry answers out of me that I don't want to give, and she'll always ask why instead of how.

She's always going to be that thing that chases away the rage and hate, and that's something that just can't be ignored—not when it only takes thinking about her to calm me down and eradicate the flow that had been running through my veins less than an hour ago.

And I'm always gonna love her for it.

All I'd wanted was to do right by her, to be able to look back and say that I did my best and this time it had actually been enough—but that was a lie, and it was never that simple anyway. I just want her, and I can't have her if I can't be good.

My best slaughtered, my best destroyed, and when I close my eyes and breathe in the scent of her off the sheets I wonder if I'll ever be able to say that now she's my best instead of that beast pacing it's cage, patiently waiting for me to let it out again. I want her to be, for her to be that one thing I didn't screw up, for her to be that one time I got it all right—but now it might be over, and her flight is evidence that I got it wrong yet again.

Her short strides echoing in the hall make my eyes snap open, and for just a second I can see what she did the first time she laid on this bed and stared at the dust swirling around those rafters; it really is entrancing.

Footsteps sound closer, pausing outside the door before I hear her take a deep breath and enter the room, and it's without thought that I roll to make room for her, completely out of my hands to be pleased when she accepts the invitation and climbs up and lays next to me.

For a second I let myself think that maybe this won't be so bad, but that's only until she takes another breath and utters words that spell potential death to any relationship, no matter the type.

"I need to talk to you." It's just another version of 'we need to talk.'

I get a good look at her and realize just how hard she's trying to stay angry, and when I smell Peter on her my first thought is that he really is a lying son of a bitch, but that's quickly followed by the realization that I just might be completely fucked.

"Sure." Not like I could stop it now if I tried.

She breathes in and out, tries to shore up her courage, and fiddles with the buttons of my shirt, and that small, insignificant action makes me feel just a little better. If she was really as pissed as she's acting she wouldn't do something like this, and that's all it takes for me to make up my mind.

One way or another it's all gonna come out in the open tonight. Either she'll ask, or I'll tell her—I'm just too sick and tired of all these games.

She makes her move, and everything...absolutely everything comes gushing forth.

It feels too good to just tell her, to finally say these words to her face and let out everything that's been pent up for months on end, and I'm not really all that sure how I'd even managed to do it. This weight that's lifting...it almost doesn't matter what she thinks of any of this as long as that burden is gone.

Almost.

Even the look on her face that tells me she's heard enough and she just might be able to see the other side of the coin can't make me stop. In some sick way this is so much like that very first time, that dreary day in Philadelphia when Alice told me that the strange and disorienting emotion swirling all around was called hope.

For one reason or another, she forgives me, and I think that maybe if I hadn't loved her already I would now. It doesn't really matter that I can't figure out if hiding everything from her is just another thing to add to the pile of shit I gotta make up for, I don't even care, because it's over. It's done, and I can tell from the look in her eyes that she thinks so, too.

A hundred whispered words that mean little more than 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry,' come spilling out of my mouth anyway, and I don't think I've ever apologized as much as I have to her in my entire life, but then again, I'd never been forgiven before she came along, either.

"I promise," I whisper after she delivers her poorly disguised ultimatum, and I do.

Her insecure request for definition is almost enough to have me laughing at her, but this shit's important to her, so I try and give the best answer I can, and somehow it's enough, for now.

She doesn't know, she won't know how all encompassing the word mate is until she has to feel it for herself, and that's fine by me. I'd rather her think in terms of love forever, and never have to know what it's like to think you're going to lose the one thing that matters most.

She fidgets and lets out little sighs, and I can't help but look for an in, for that one small chance to go and fix the too friendly kiss I pecked across her cheek, and it's almost eerie how quickly she gives me one.

And Jesus, this girl is so much damn trouble, but she's always been worth it, and the feel of her finally pressed against me is no exception.

It's one of those times when I hate having the ability to think of a multitude of things at once, because what I want is to be completely lost in the taste, smell and feel of her under my hands and mouth—but somewhere in the background is that persistent thought that I've never done anything in my life to deserve something this amazing.

I don't care; I won't let myself, because it doesn't matter. Who gives a fuck if their reward comes from hell or heaven when she's lying underneath, breathing heavily, and chasing all the bad away.

"You wouldn't believe how fucking long I've waited for this."

"How long?" she asks, and it takes me a second to answer, because I hadn't actually noticed I said it out loud.

"Hmm...That's a tricky question," I answer as I try to figure out how to say I've waited forever for her. All my life, she's the one thing that's always been missing, and once she was there I'd always wanted something from her, even if in the beginning it was just her blood. "Forever? It feels like I've always wanted you in some way or another."

And for once I think that maybe I got it perfectly right.


	5. The Eye

It's quiet for a few minutes after Emmett mutters the words I'd been praying not to hear.

Newborns. Again.

We'd known it was probable, and Peter's been on my case for weeks, but it seems this is the downside to having hope. I'd hoped and hoped and hoped, and now I have no footing.

"We're not prepared," Peter says, and I look down to realize the call has disconnected and a text message has replaced it.

_'I'll call back in a couple of days.'_

"I know."

"What are we gonna do?"

"I have no idea," I admit, and this sickening swirling of Peter's faith in me that's fading by the minute to be replaced with disbelief is making my head spin.

"You do have a plan, right?" he asks carefully, and I shake my head.

I'd had outlines for things like hunting Victoria down, just Victoria, or dealing with maybe three to seven newborns...but this? This is so far outside of the few worse case scenarios I'd allowed myself to have.

"Goddamnit, Jasper!" Peter hisses, storming out of the house to pace the length of the deck, and when I follow him out, I know I deserve whatever's about to come my way. He's been steadily losing his patience the longer we remain idle, and now this confirmation of what he'd feared is going to push him right over the edge. I can't really even blame him for it; I should have starting doing something about this shit long ago.

"Peter..."

"Fuckin' hell," he rants, never ceasing his carefully spaced steps across the planks of the floor. "How could you do this? How could you call us in to help you when you have no fuckin' idea what you're doing?"

"This isn't why I called you; I called you to help with Bella." The words float out into the atmosphere, and right through Peter.

" _Fifteen, this is fucking crazy. I can't believe I'm knee deep in this shit again."_ He's starting to speak in a strange blend of English and Spanish, and I have to make a conscious effort to keep myself from slipping back into that old habit with him.

"You think I want to be here?"

" _I think you're fuckin' lucky Charlotte and I are here since apparently you've lost all shreds of sanity and self-preservation."_

"Just calm down!" I can't help but snap at him, and I blanket him in a fog of calm so thick he'd need a chainsaw to hack his way out of it.

Peter shakes off my influence after a couple of minutes, I still don't know how he does that, and we pick up where we left off, right up to the minute Bella comes thundering over.

The moment an explanation has begun to cross my lips she cuts me off, and her brashness winds up being the thing that snaps Peter out of his tirade long enough to call Char over and distract us all with those horrible movies Emmett sent.

I make it through one before I start trying to slide my fingers under the hem of Bella's shirt. Her skin is so soft, and even though she's a vampire she still feels warm, and every now and then I swear I can feel the thump of my heart in tandem with the jump of her veins. I close my eyes and kiss the back of her neck, like I've wanted to do every single time she's sitting in front of me for the past...forever, and start trying to come up with a way to dig us out of this mess.

There was a time where I'd just run at the problem with everything I had, and I'd win, too, but not without casualties. Now that's not an option, I have to weigh pros and cons, and I have to accept the fact that Peter and I can't just barrel through this like we've always done. Now there's something to lose, and that one thing is throwing me so far off balance.

The next movie winds down and Bella looks to me with her big, amber eyes and asks, "Alright, what happened?"

"Emmett called, Victoria has newborns again." It's all she needs to hear before she mentally checks out for a bit while Peter and I resume our previous argument.

"We have to start getting ready," Peter states, standing from his seat. _"Bella needs to get some actual instruction, and we've gotta call in those favors from your wolves..."_

"English, Peter," I request as nicely as I can, taking a chance to glance at Bella's confused face as she tries to keep track of what's going on despite all that's whirling around in that head of hers. She knows some Spanish, but not enough, and I'm done with keeping her out of the loop, intentionally or not.

"Fine," Peter snaps, resuming his pacing. "We need a goddamned plan. How the fuck do you not have a plan?"

He's pissed off, anger laced with protectiveness and disbelief radiates from him, like he can't figure out which he feels the most. I try blasting him with calm again, but like before he just shakes that shit off.

"We need more information," I point out, part of me hoping to knock him out of it and another wanting him to see that we just need more time, and I stand up to place myself in his path so he'll stop wearing a track in the carpeting.

"We can't sit here and do nothing!"

"We also can't sit here and plan for one thing when another is coming!"

Peter takes a stride toward me, and for a split second I'm pretty positive that he hates me, but then I realize just how much fear is roaring beneath the surface.

"We have to give her a target," he says, looking me straight in the eye with a gaze I'd long ago forgotten in favor of pretending I wasn't as terrible as I actually was back in the South. "If we don't give her something to point those fucking things at the collateral damage is going to be _huge_."

I know what he's doing, that he's trying to appeal to my rational side, trying to make me see that this isn't all about me, and it's not all about keeping Bella safe, but I find it a little odd that he's not making this plea for Charlotte; instead he chooses to direct the spotlight to countless names and faces shrouded in the darkness of the unknown. I'd like to think that maybe he's just trying to keep this from becoming personal, but there's a little nagging part of me that wonders if he's afraid that I just don't hold Charlotte's life in that high of a regard.

"Do you think I don't know that? How the fuck are we going to take down at least seventeen vampires with just five of us? I know we're good, Peter, but we're not that fucking good." In all honesty we could probably do it, but that would mean Bella's alone, and that's just not fucking happening.

" _Five? How the hell do you figure five?"_

" _English!"_ Peter's frustration is starting to get to me, and the movements of the startled girls on the couch brings me back to just under the boiling point, that is, until Peter starts talking again.

"You, me, Charlotte, Bella," he counts off, and the roar that sounds in my head at her name has a ferocity I wasn't sure I was even capable of. Just the thought of it...

"Not Bella. She'll be busy taking out Victoria; we can't count on her being available to dispatch newborns." I have to make my argument logically, and this one is sound. I can't risk whatever objection I come up with being torn down and overruled, because Peter's on the fucking warpath, and I don't really know how to handle him when he's like this anymore.

"Fine. Rosalie and Emmett."

"And that's our five." My words are firm and sure in the vain hope that Peter will just accept them, but of course, he doesn't.

"What about your little pet wolf? If she's as good as you told me..."

"We can't depend on her being here in time." It's true, in a way, but Leah would be here as fast as her furry little legs could carry her if there was even the chance of getting to rip into a vampire. It won't be long before she's here anyway, and the look I give Peter lets him know that I'll tell her about the change in circumstances, that I'll try.

"Well, then how about the rest of your former coven?" Peter asks harshly, ignoring my implied concession and barreling right along to the next thing I've done that's pissing him off. "Do you really expect me to believe that Alice is unwilling to help? What about Edward?"

He's doing this on purpose, trying to break me down so I can pick myself up and get my shit together, but neither of us could have ever predicted the absolute fury that travels over my skin and seeps into the air at the mention of that piece of shit.

"Have you even asked them? You know they would both be here in a heartbeat," Peter continues, either completely missing how enraged I am or not caring.

 _Edward._ That infuriating little boy still needs to be taught a lesson.

"Where the fuck is your head at, 'cause I remember a time when it was my mate whose life was hanging in the balance of battle, and I didn't need you to run around and pick up all the slack just to make sure we did what we had to."

He's pushed me past my limit, and he knows it. I may have gone soft but my soft is still tougher than most people's. I'm not even able to shake myself out of it before I've already taken a step forward, fully intending to deprive Peter of an appendage.

It's just the smallest shuffle of feet against the carpet that brings me around, the tiniest exhale of breath from between Bella's teeth that helps me get it together enough to storm out of the house instead of mutilating Peter, but I almost turn back when he feels vindicated and smug at my exit.

I lean against this railing I built after I let Bella tear the old one down, stare out over the grassy expanse of the yard toward the horizon, and I know I only have a couple of seconds before one of them comes after me. My chest aches, and my heart screams that this just isn't fucking fair. I had my moment in the calm of the eye, and now the storm is thundering overhead again, and I'd liked that break from all of this turmoil so much. A week of blue skies and rolling around in bed with Bella doesn't seem like a whole lot to ask for; it's just my luck that we only got one night.

The hinges creak and I take a breath in. Bella.

"Look, it was all fine when it was just planning and you and Charlotte fucking around out in the fields, but it's real now, and I know I'm acting like an asshole..." Christ, I have to learn some way of maintaining my verbal filter around this girl.

"I get it," she says, stepping closer to kiss my shoulder blade. "I know it's hard for you to deal with."

"He's right, about Alice and Edward." The 'and I hate him for it' is left unsaid.

"If you know he's right then why haven't you called them?" she asks with a knowing smile, and my mind races to come up with a few good reasons that I don't mind telling her.

It's not that I want to lie to her, far from it; it's just that some of this fucked up shit running through my head is ridiculous, and I'm well aware of how insane it's going to sound if I say it out loud. You don't tell the girl you spent all last night and a good part of the morning with that you don't want her around her ex-boyfriend because he seems to have some sort of crazy obsession with her, or that you don't wanna call your ex-wife because she does everything to the extreme and she'll either be too happy or too pissed, and neither of those are any good. Even saying it to myself is embarrassing, what the fuck happened to me in the past few months?

Concessions, compromises, I've gotta make them. "Alice isn't a big deal; I'll call her, but Edward..." I don't want to compromise when it comes to Edward. "He'll come, he'll come because it's you, and he'll think that if we're asking that means he has a chance to win you back."

And there it is, that's what it all boils down to; Edward's too dense to realize that he blew it, and he's too arrogant to accept the bond between me and Bella. All he's gonna do is cause problems, and while Bella sweetly reassures me that I have nothing to worry about, I wonder how to tell her that Edward isn't the only thing that has me nervous.

We've already got Emmett and Rose involved, Alice won't be far behind. If Edward gets into this mess too there's going to be no stopping Carlisle and Esme, and they are the ones who present the threat. They're the ones who I know could take her away, and I would follow, there's no doubt in my mind that I'd go anywhere she wanted, but I don't want to be with the Cullens anymore. Bella might, and while I give a truthful answer to the question she asked I wonder how much she really misses having a Mom and Dad.

There's just too much at stake here, and I don't know if I can gamble with these odds. There's too many ways to lose her, and there's too many things that could go wrong and I wouldn't be there to help. It's all a mess, and for the first time I feel like maybe I'm the underdog in this one. This is all so different, it has been ever since Forks, because I'm not the man who bent to Maria's will anymore, and I never understood that part of what made me so effective was my apathy.

Her proposal to team up with Seth is mildly infuriating, but I take a breath and let it go. She may always turn left when she needs to head east, and sometimes she gets lost and wanders around in circles for days on end, but in the end she always gets there.

Eventually she'll see that this is not the problem, that it's not so much that I lack confidence in her abilities, just that I don't know if I can even stomach the thought of not being there to back her up. That ugly green monster rears its head again for a second; Seth, is she fucking kidding me? Not only does she pick someone else, she chooses the absolute weakest alternative.

She could at least ask for Peter, or Emmett, and as I hug her close I start dreading all the work that's going to have to go into getting Seth to an acceptable place. I'd barely trust Leah to do this, but Bella asked, and it's kind of pathetic how she's gonna get what she wants so easily.

She wants to pair up with Seth? Done. I'll whip that boy into shape even if it kills him.

She needs a better tutor? Fine. Peter's been itching to take over her instruction for ages anyway.

She can have anything, everything, and honestly, Leah would never agree to come without her brother, and that boy is always eager to learn. Besides, Leah would be pissed if I didn't assume she'd give up her attempts to quit phasing for something like this, so it's not like I wouldn't have called her anyway. I just wouldn't have asked her to help; I would have let her offer.

Newborns...fuck, Leah's gonna be so happy.

Peter storms out of the house and calls Bella's attention away, and after too brief goodbyes I'm left staring out over the lawn, watching my mate disappear into the forest with the last person I'd ever want her going up against.

"Don't worry so much, Jasper," Charlotte calls out softly as she leans against the railing next to me. "She'll be fine."

"I know," I scowl into the morning.

"Do you?" she asks sweetly, and the really nice thing about Charlotte is that her emotions are almost always in tune with the rest of her. If she sounds kind, she feels kind; each of the few times I've found myself alone with her have been easy.

"I know that Peter won't hurt her, and I know that he will prepare her as best he can." The words sound almost robotic, and Charlotte laughs a little.

"You could do better," Charlotte says softly after a few minutes, and she turns to smile at me, "but I know you won't, and I think you need someone to tell you that it's okay."

I nod, still staring out over the trees, and send some gratitude Charlotte's way. She's right; I kind of did need to hear it.

"You need to learn how to talk about these things with Bella," she says firmly. "I know that it's hard for you to open up, and I know you've come a long way, but you don't have to do this all on your own anymore, Jasper."

"I'm not sure how."

"Just talk to her," Charlotte laughs, and I bend my head and allow myself a small smile. It really was a stupid objection. She's more serious when she speaks next, "The two of you have forged a very powerful bond in a short time, and the downside to that is your communication skills are shit. You have to figure out a way to let her know what's going on inside your head."

"And I do that by talking to her?" I ask quietly, trying not to let on how much I need this advice.

"Yes. Tell her about your day, what you did. Tell her that you argued with Peter and why...the rest will come in time."Charlotte pats my shoulder, and I'm not sure what possesses me to do it, but I pull her in for a brief hug before releasing her.

"What?" I ask once I get a look at the dumbfounded expression on her face.

"Nothing," Charlotte says, shaking her head back and forth dazedly. "It's just that I don't think you've ever done that before."

I haven't, I know I haven't, and as soon as she points it out it's instantly on my list of shit I've gotta make up for. Charlotte's a wonderful woman; she does a lot for Peter, and for Bella, and she never deserved the distance I've always kept between us.

"You think they're about done?" I ask casually, but Charlotte sees right through it.

"Go on, you pathetic thing, you," she smirks. "Peter wouldn't run her too hard on the first day; I'll bet they finish up soon."

I don't even look back as I sprint across the yard and through the woods, just trying to get to Bella.


	6. Green

Bella shifts and the vibration of her giggle runs over my chest, and I pull her a little closer before whispering in her ear, "Try knocking the middle chair over."

My fingers are steady working their way under the hem of the too large shirt she's wearing, but it can't be helped; they have minds of their own. Now that I can touch her, now that we're together, really together, all restraint has flown right out the window. I press my lips to the side of her neck, and she giggles again before going completely still. It's ridiculous, but I know the exact expression that's on her face right now; her brows are scrunched and her nose is wrinkled just the tiniest bit as she focuses on learning how to use her shield.

The chair falls over with a thud, and the other two are still standing, though they were both pushed away a few inches from the force. I kiss higher and murmur congratulations against the skin between her ear and jaw.

"It's getting easier," she remarks.

"I told you it would."

My fingers trace zigzags over her thighs, and I'm far too pleased with myself when she sighs and leans back against my chest. It's so fuckin' awesome that I convinced her to go commando while we run around the house.

This is nice, really nice. We're just sitting on top of the kitchen counter, playing around with Bella's gift—and the feel of her legs brushing against mine and the sight of her small frame dwarfed by my t-shirt makes all the shit we had to go through to get here completely negligible.

She just...makes me feel normal—with her it's easy to imagine that I'm just a man. There's no intrusive emotions, no ulterior motives, and there's no desperation to get as much out of our time together as I can. It's the first time I've ever really felt like there was a me that's whole and apart from everyone else; the first time I've ever been self-contained, and at this point I don't give two shits whether or not she ever learns to drop her shield, because I'm kind of starting to love not feeling her.

"You should do that thing...with your fingers..." Bella whispers as she turns her head to run her nose over my cheek, and I can't help but chuckle at how green she is. She won't even say it.

"I should, huh?" My fingers dance higher and when she bites her lip I'm compelled to lean in and suck it out from between her teeth. It should probably feel wrong or kinky even, doing this on the kitchen counters, but fuck, it's not like we eat in here.

A somewhat strangled whimper sounds from Bella's throat as the pads of my fingers brush against her, and it's kind of amazing how quickly we've fallen into this new aspect to our relationship. It was awkward at first, but that's to be expected; now it kind of feels like we've been doing this dance forever, like I've always known just how much pressure to use and the exact way to curl my fingers to make her scream.

She throws her head back against my shoulder and groans before her back arches and body trembles, and I feel nothing but awe when I look at her riding out the bliss of the moment. It takes her awhile to get her bearings again, it always does.

"Take me to bed," she says, pressing her mouth against my jaw, and I can't help but laugh a little bit, because this is the third time she's done this in sixteen hours. She may be inexperienced, and she may be a little shy—but if I get her off once she'll look me straight in the eye and demand that I do it again.

I decide it doesn't really matter as I get her to hop down off the counter top and throw her over my shoulder to carry her to our bedroom—Bella laughs her ass off the whole way. When it comes to her I'm a little green, too. This is all new for me, and who would have thought after so many years there would be anything left.

It's not that the steps have changed, or that I don't know the dance anymore; it's that with her it means something, really means something, and there had been a split second last night where the enormity of everything had come at me from all sides and I'd realized that it may as well have been my first time, too.

It had been the saddest performance of my life, but I couldn't even find it in me to care. It's not like she knew how pathetic it was anyway. I just can't help but lose it with her, she makes me feel like a teenage boy getting his first feel of pussy, and that's an experience that I never thought I'd have for so many reasons.

Sex is...it's different without my gift. It's unexpected and intense, the pleasure is random and surprising; it's like all those other times I'd already known the ending to the book and couldn't quite grasp the magic of it. Now it's all fresh, now I have no idea what to expect or when; now it's real.

I let her down on the mattress, and she sits up on her knees and bounces in place for a moment, grinning widely as she takes in what is most likely a pathetic look of adoration on my face. I can't begin to be embarrassed about it. She just looks so damn cute in my t-shirt with her mussed hair, sparkling eyes, and bare feet.

"Did you mean what you said last night?" Bella asks, tilting her head to the side and shooting me a wicked grin that I didn't know she was capable of.

"I said a lot of things last night," I tell her, invading her space and forcing her down onto the mattress.

"About the handcuffs," she clarifies.

I swear this girl is going to fucking kill me.

"I was one hundred percent serious about the handcuffs," I tell her, arching my eyebrow and capturing her lips with mine, and she does this swirling thing with her tongue; only half of me wants to know where she learned it from.

Her legs wrap around my hips, and I know it's not something we're going to get to right now—but maybe in a few hours when she's all ramped up and ready to go again. I'm going to have to remember to thank Emmett for that one.

I don't even know how we're going to cope when Leah and Seth get here, whether having others in the house is something she cares about or not—but I'm determined to live in the moment for all the time I have left alone with her, so I push the thought down and concentrate on the feel of her skin under the tips of my fingers as I slide my shirt up past her ribs and over her head.

I sink into her and there's nothing but Bella, bed sheets, and this irrational desire I have to be able to sweat; like somehow the physical manifestation of our movements is something that should be included in this experience—but the loss is intangible, it means nothing, because five of Bella's fingers are tugging at my hair and I've got a palm on her tit. I shift my weight, grab her left hand in my right and brace myself on my elbow so I can hold them up over our heads, because I need to feel more of her against me.

There's an underlying sweetness to everything, and it has a larger effect on the whole than I ever would have expected. Even when we're rough and passionate we're still somehow gentle, and I want to find every single way my body can love her, and discover each of her reactions and reciprocations in turn.

She's just so tight and warm, and fuck, I'd spend the rest of my existence buried in her if she'd let me.

When the world breaks in half and swallows me whole all I can think is that this is home.

This time it's not just her who needs a couple of minutes to recover. I oblige when she pushes against my shoulder, and I tuck my arm behind my head after flipping over to my back, smiling as Bella curls up against my other side.

I whisper into her hair that she's beautiful and I love her, and the little sigh that escapes her is every bit as good as an 'I love you, too.'

"Do you have a cigarette?" she asks, and the question is so out of the blue that I just gawk at her until she elaborates, "I was just wondering if the movies get anything right."

"Sorry," I tell her, even though I'm not. It would take _forever_ to get the smell of smoke out of the house, and the habit isn't nearly as satisfying when it can't kill you.

"Maybe Charlotte will get me some..." she muses, and I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind that I know will distract her.

"I beat the shit out of Jacob in Forks."

She stares wide eyed at me for a moment before I see the light bulb flash in her head. She looks annoyed and exasperated, but those ridiculously expressive eyes of her are full of amusement, and I know I'm not in any trouble.

"How stupid do you think I am?"

That's not exactly how I expected her to react.

"I don't think you're stupid." It seems like the best way to respond to the loaded question she's posed.

"You tried to distract me with something I already knew? Come on, Jasper. It took me five minutes to figure out that you'd probably kicked his ass up and down the whole state of Washington." She says it all with a completely straight face, and it really wasn't the best idea I've ever had—but she's had worse and she knows it.

I start twisting little sections of her hair between my fingers, and it's not long before she presses a kiss against my chest and I know she's over the fake irritation and silly idea of lighting up in our bedroom.

I decide to give her something else, because we're trying this whole 'talk to each other' thing, and it's surprisingly not all that bad to let her know all the big and little things of past and present. "Back in Forks, sometimes I would make all your friends excited when they were talking to you to piss you off."

She sits up and her mouth falls open, and I'm thinking that this time she might be genuinely annoyed with me, so I probably should try to focus my eyes on her face rather than her tits.

"You did _what?_ " She manages to growl, yell and choke out the words all at once. "Do you have any idea how irritating they were? Every single time I saw Mike or Jessica they wanted to know how my day was and what I was doing later and what I thought of this or that... That was _you?_ "

"Not all the time," I assure her. "Mostly in the cafeteria. I found you interesting, and I was trying to figure out how you could be so mild-mannered even when you were mad."

She stares at me a little longer before shaking her head and flicking my earlobe just because she knows I hate it, and I pull her hair a little in retaliation. She giggles and lies back down, and it's all forgiven quickly. We're used to this by now, getting grouchy and mad at each other over some of the things we share, but we've come to an unspoken agreement that neither of us will hold anything against the other. We're working with clean slates now.

"I'm gonna find a way to get you back for that one," she mutters, and as much as I hate to admit it, spending so much time with Peter has been good for her.

Bella's learning how to stand up for herself, and not just against the people who want to tear her down like she'd done in Forks. So maybe it's not really so much that she's standing up for herself, more that she's learning how to stand on her own two feet. Either way, I'm proud of her.

Somewhere in the back of my mind the clock is ticking down; we've got about ten hours left on our own, and it's just not enough time. I need weeks, months of her—but I've learned to take what I can get during this time of uncertainty, and it's alright, because in the end I'm gonna have her forever, even if I have to kill that whole fucking army of newborns by myself.

Suddenly the air whooshes from my lungs and I'm flying off the end of the bed before I can figure out what the fuck is going on, and when I land on the floor with a thump I catch sight of Bella leaning over, her hair falling around her face as she bites her lip and tries not to laugh.

"Did you do that?" I ask her, not really believing that she would.

"I couldn't help myself," she snickers. "Besides, apparently you get to use your gift for your own amusement. Why should I be any different?

"You wasted a prime opportunity," I point out to her as I pick myself up off the floor and climb back onto the bed. I hover over her and rest my weight on my forearms, lean down and whisper in her ear, "You should have just told me I'd been naughty and needed to be punished, you do have the handcuffs, after all."

She's torn between being embarrassed, excited and eager as she bites her lip and glances up at me through her lashes, and I'm sure she doesn't even know how fucking sexy the look she gives me is.

"You've been a naughty boy, Jasper," she says seriously, shaking her head a little while she tries to contain her giggles and grin.

"Nope, too late." I swoop in for a kiss before rolling onto my back again, and she pouts a little before a smile spreads over her face.

"That's alright; I'll just wait twenty minutes for you to admit something else you've done that's annoyed me."

I carefully make sure none of my confessions meet her criteria as we wisely spend our last ten hours of solitude mussing the sheets, and I wonder if maybe I can keep this up long enough to get those handcuffs on her first. It comes as a pretty big shock when I realize that I don't even care if she ties me down; I don't mind ceding control or giving her the upper hand. No matter where the balance of power shifts we're always somehow going to be equals in the way that her good cancels out my bad, and my certainty negates her self-consciousness.

We're complimentary; she's my home.


	7. Cycles

"Peter!" I shout toward the deck, steadying myself for the onslaught of rage that I'm about to be immersed in. Peter really isn't going to take this well, he's been steadily been becoming more fed up with me each passing day, and I just know this is what's going to push him over the edge.

I'm not in the mood for this shit, not after dealing with that whiny bitch on the phone for twenty fucking minutes—but I can't put this off any longer. The ball is rolling, and there's no stopping it now. Besides, Bella's going to blow a gasket if I don't get this shit out in the open. She's been dealing well with the issue of keeping secrets from our friends, but it's not really fair to ask her to stay silent, and it's something I've gotta fix.

Peter calls out for Leah to join us, and I wish he hadn't. My friendship with Leah is fragile, and I'm not sure, but I think it's because I still scare her a little bit. Peter's probably gonna throw a punch today, and I'm going to have to take it—it's something I'd rather not have witnessed, especially by Leah.

I'd been sure the moment we were out of earshot Peter would be on me about Edward, and I'm right—but Peter's concern isn't what I thought it would be.

"You shouldn't let Bella get sucked into her anger toward him." Peter says the words thoughtfully as we come to a stop, and glances off to the side before continuing. "She's not a violent person, and if you don't do something she's going to rip that boy's head off. You can't get caught up in loving her and forget that you still have a job to do."

He's right, in the heat of the moment Bella probably would do something she'd regret, and hadn't I promised not to let that happen? She may act older, but she's still a newborn, and there are parts of that that take time to grow out of, mood swings being one of them. I'm supposed to be looking out for her, making sure that when all is said and done she can look at herself and see that she's the same person, and I'd completely overlooked this because I'm too anxious to see Edward get what's coming to him.

"Okay," I agree, too easily I think, and Peter gives me a suspicious look.

"What did you do?"

I scowl at him and flex my fingers as I start plotting evasion tactics that I know won't work. "Edward's not coming just to help kill newborns."

"What is he coming for, Jasper?" Peter growls; he's already caught on that this isn't going to be something he'll be happy about.

"He's coming so I can switch places with Seth."

Peter does not disappoint. "Are you fuckin' _insane?_ "

Leah's eyes are wide, and I notice her taking a couple steps away from the two of us as I take two deep, even breaths and try to keep Peter's fury from affecting me.

"Are you actually _trying_ to get us all killed?" I'm not sure yelling or screaming is even enough to describe the way Peter's talking, he's pretty much just exploding right in front of me. "You think you can sacrifice the rest of us to keep your mate safe? Well, what about _my_ mate?"

He punctuates his tirade with a violent shove to my shoulder, and I let him do it.

"I will not be separated from her in this, Peter."

"Fuck you! Just... _FUCK YOU!_ You can't hang us all out to dry so you can watch Bella kill _one_ vampire! These are fuckin' newborns, Jasper. You, me and Char are the only ones with any real experience here..."

"Leah and Seth have dealt with newborns."

" _Three!_ Three newborns, this is at least a dozen," he growls, and his temper is raging so forcefully that it's making my head swim.

"Edward is a competent fighter."

"I can't believe you're going to risk us coming out of this unscathed just so you don't have to deal with something that you put me through for six fuckin' months," he spits, and I can tell that he knows his words cut, and it's obvious he's not satisfied with how deeply. "You're such a piece of shit. You're gambling with Charlotte's life, _again_."

It's the first time I've really seen it, what makes Peter a little messed up in the head, and I'm pretty sure the feeling roiling in the pit of my stomach is nausea. Peter may be fucked up, but I'm the one who did it to him; I made him this way.

I see his right hook coming and I let it connect, 'cause I deserve it—but when he tries to pull another one I grab him around the throat and pin him to the ground. I'll let him have one, but that's it. It takes a few minutes to solidify my hold; Peter's fiercer than I remember, and we haven't gone at it full throttle in decades.

" _Enough_ Peter." I get right up in his face and tighten my grip around his neck. "I am sorry for what I did to you, and I am sorry for what I put you through every time I sent Charlotte out to fight and wouldn't let you follow—but that shit is over, and I refuse to repeat history all over again.

"You keep bitchin' about having to step up and take charge of this; well I am _putting you in charge._ You will lead those fuckers into battle and you _will_ make sure each and every one of them comes out of it alive. Bella and I will come help the second we can, but this isn't negotiable. This time you are staying with your mate, and so am I. Do you understand?"

He can do it, I know he can; he knows it, too—but just like I'm not willing to wager Bella's life he's not willing to bet Char's. It makes me feel sick, that I finally fully comprehend how terrible this thing I did, and still am doing to Peter is, and I'm going to do it again anyway.

Peter nods sharply, his glare never softening, even as I let him up, and his gaze snaps to the left where Leah's still standing, looking like she's about ready to bolt. "What the fuck are you waiting for? _Move._ "

He's trying so damn hard to get to a place where he can just flat out hate me. I can see the gears turning in his head, and I figure he's probably thinking of all the times I made the most basic things impossible for him. I've never really wanted to admit it, but the thought has been there ever since he came back for me; Peter's stronger than I am, by a lot. It's just that his strength is different than mine, and it isn't quite so apparent at first glance.

I may be wrath, but Peter's a survivor—and this shift in the balance between us is happening because I can't be that anymore, and Peter's having a hard time accepting that I won't hold on to all this rage of his and channel it into power like I used to.

Maybe this will be good for him, to take the reins and break free from the idea that I'm the commander and he's the subordinate—but deep down I know that I just want to think that so I don't have to succumb to this rotten feeling festering inside of me.

He can't muster up the hatred, and I can feel the moment when he resigns himself and allows his emotions to shift back to anger—but this anger of his isn't genuine; it's all born from and wrapped around terror and fear. "I swear to God, Jasper... I trust that you will do the best you can to get shit taken care of, but if _anything_ happens to Charlotte, then you'd better believe that I will be the one gunning for you."

He turns on his heel and marches Leah deeper into the woods, and its mere minutes before I'm left all alone amongst trees and weeds, trying to accept the fact that I just did something so incredibly selfish.

The blinders are off, and all the time Peter and I have ever spent together looks so very different from this side of the fence. I can't even count how many times I put Charlotte's life in danger, directly or not. Even after we left Maria I never really did anything to protect her, I always let that fall on Peter; it's not so unbelievable that he thinks I don't care about her; I certainly never acted like it.

I hope that this is just one of those things that won't be so bad once it's over.

My gaze snaps west with the rustling of leaves, and I see Charlotte walking deliberately through the woods, clearly following Peter's trail; she's so impatient sometimes. Her eyes meet mine, and her curiosity washes over me right before I'm coated in understanding and sympathy so strong that it makes me want to fall to my knees and beg her to forgive me for everything I've done to her.

" _That_ Jasper," she whispers, maintaining eye contact. "The Jasper I remember from the south, he would never have looked at me the way you are right now. I think you can take that as confirmation that you are not the same man, even if you are repeating some of his actions."

"Charlotte..."

"No, listen to me," she demands, taking a step closer and setting her jaw. "Bella is my best friend, the only real friend I've ever had, and she's my sister in every way that matters. I am not fighting because you've ordered me to; I'm fighting because she needs me to be there with her, on her side, standing up for her. This is my choice; someday you'll understand that makes all the difference."

She doesn't wait for my response, just continues on her way through the forest, and I'm left wondering if Charlotte's choices really can pardon my actions when it comes to Peter.

I'm caught in the middle of this seesaw, desperately trying to find a balance that will allow me to be the man Bella deserves and keep her alive and safe at the same time. If Charlotte is right then maybe it works the other way, too, and as I take my time walking back to the house, I ponder the possibility that maybe Bella's choice to pursue this conflict with Victoria can forgive me for what I'm going to have to do to keep her alive.

It's the first time I've ever thought that maybe a regression would be okay, and the idea is so foreign and mind-boggling that I barely even notice as Bella greets me with a worried look, and proceeds to carefully clean the dirt and grime from me before pulling me into bed.

She lets me hold her as tight as I can, doesn't complain that I've latched onto her like she's my anchor; she just lets me be lost for a little while as I sort out this brand new notion that I don't _have_ to eradicate all traces of the man who slaughtered so many. I can take the strongest parts of him, the most dangerous, and trust that Bella will be there to pull me back and keep me in line...and the odd thing is that I'm willing to depend on her for that.

Maybe this is what's really grating at Peter; that I'm forcing him back into a role he doesn't want to retake while refusing to do the same, and I realize that he's perfectly justified in that. I can't ask this of him, not when I don't expect the same of myself.

Bella's fingers run over my forearm, and I know I have to start talking.

I'm back in that place where I'm not really telling her everything, just giving her bits and pieces and letting her work out her own interpretations, and she does a surprisingly good job of it. It feels like lying, and I don't like it, but I figure it's different than it was before because this time I have every intention of sharing the whole story with her eventually.

When she tells me she thinks it all comes back to regret I decide that little lies aren't really all that bad, because maybe regret is my driving force, but it doesn't have to be hers. I just want her to be able to live her life freely, to not have to worry about things like atonement and bartering for second chances. I actually want that for myself, too; I want to be finished, I want to be done, and it's a strange thought to have. I've spent so long working toward something that wasn't in sight, and now that I know what it is I'm drowning in the desire to sprint toward the light at the end of the tunnel, because I know that's where a happy and carefree future with Bella starts.

I can do it, I think. I can loosen the grip I have on the devil that rages inside me and tear apart the ones who are coming to do Bella harm, and I choose to believe that by making this decision now it's different than if I make it when I'm standing face to face with the enemy. I can make this a choice instead of a reaction, and maybe that's what Charlotte was talking about earlier. I'm not fighting because Bella asked me to, or because it's either that or let her risk her life alone; I'm fighting because I need to stand by her, because I love her—and it is different.


	8. Archers

It's not until Peter says those words to me, gives me the offer to just let the entire thing slide that I really get it. I never understood, not when it comes to him, and it's like the light bulb flashes over my head, and I feel like the biggest idiot in the world.

What I did to him, trying to get at him through Charlotte, trying to dissect and study his behavior by making him watch as she fought battles she shouldn't have had to...it was horrible. It was the worst thing I've ever done in my life, and I hadn't even been able to tell him I was sorry in a way that meant anything until two days ago—but I've learned that Peter's never needed that.

He's always known. He knew that one day I'd get it, and he'd forgiven me long before I was actually sorry, because that's just the kind of person he is. He's passionate in everything he does, including his loyalty; he'd seen the possibility that I could be something more than I was, and he grabbed hold of it and never let go.

I wonder when it really was, that we became friends, because I know now that there's no way it happened when I've always thought it did.

Not so long ago this realization would have confused the hell out of me, but I'm starting to understand this whole 'unconditional love' thing, and Peter and I, we're _family._ We may not always have gotten along, and there may have been decades of resentment boiling about, but we're tied together in a way that can't be severed. You don't throw that shit away for mistakes long past, or coulda, woulda, shoulda. Our past is just that, and Peter's never once given up on me for good; I don't know why I thought this time would be any different.

The party circles all around me in waves of happiness and relief, and there's some shit I gotta take care of—but instead of worrying about it, I take a deep breath before leaning back in my chair and letting everything sink in a little bit. I can't believe it's over, it's done. All of it.

I take the chance Bella gives me to slip quietly into the forest and run north to complete my errand; it only takes me ten minutes to find him, but then again, he's been waiting for me for hours—and yeah, I lied to Bella when I told her I wouldn't go after him, and I let her assume my words earlier were confirmation of that, but in the end I can't find it in myself to feel bad about it. This is about me just as much as it is about her—she's not the only one he owes.

Edward's leaning against a tree, glaring into the foliage in front of him, and letting himself marinate in his frustrated anger. He straightens a bit when I approach, crosses his arms across his chest as his eyes snap in my direction, hatred spilling from their depths.

"There's one thing you always were right about," I spit, taking two more strides than I need before pulling my fist back and relishing in the feel of his cheekbone shattering under my knuckles. The resounding echo of his skull bouncing off the tree bark is so supremely satisfying; I've waited so fucking long for this.

It's almost enough, the violence—but I push myself to say the words I've wanted to scream at him for months anyway. That fist to the face, that was for Bella; for all the times she was too timid and weak, every occasion he deserved it during the course of their short and destructive relationship, and that night so long ago when I told her I'd teach him a lesson—but this part, the words, they're for me. "You _never_ deserved her."

"You think you do?" Edward snaps, narrowing his eyes and pressing his palm against the indent I've made in his face as he sways in place a bit with his disorientation.

I know that he fully expects his words to sink me; he thinks he can cast doubt into my mind and create an opening for himself, but what he doesn't realize is that that shit doesn't work on me anymore. I don't even need to think about my answer, it's something incontrovertible, a maybe that's etched into my bones and carved into my heart.

"You know what? I just might." For the first time I can remember that weight filling my chest feels more like a balloon, and I honestly believe that even if it turns out I'm lying today, someday, when I finally manage to let go of the last of this dark dissolving within me, that's the man I'm gonna be. The certainty welling up inside me is almost too much, but it's something I have to push to the side so can I stalk away, sure in my confidence, so Edward knows that this is something I'm not fucking around about.

I leave him stewing; I did what I came to do.

It takes hours to come to terms with this bright and happy future stretching out in front of me, and the smothering that's always enveloped my lungs doesn't actually start to dissipate until Alice finally searches me out to have our long overdue chat. I'm distracted and she knows it; she's managed to meet me within a very specific radius, one that ensures there's nothing I can think about except that this whole thing started in a small clearing, just two miles west of where I'm standing.

"You look happy," Alice remarks after a moment with a small smile as she shifts her weight nervously. "Confused, but happy."

"I am." I don't bother clarifying which, she knows I mean both.

"Good. Take care of her, okay? I know it really goes without saying, but I gotta say it, you know?" Alice laughs a little bit at herself, and I might have found it amusing, too—but it was _right there_. Just four minutes away...

"I'll talk to you later." I hear myself say the words half a second before I start running. Alice is laughing in my wake, and part of me rolls it's eyes and imagines the look Bella's gonna get on her face when she realized that I _still_ haven't hashed everything out with my ex, but the larger part is focused on that tree that's standing a little crooked, on the grass that's still trampled from hours of my knees weighing down on it.

This was the scene of my last time.

The only thing I know to do is sit, just sit and remember and absorb the absolutely indisputable fact that this time it didn't blow up in my face. This time when I set out to do right I managed it, and now it's done. All that horror and pain, the vengeance and uncertainty...

I'm still here, still standing, though, honestly, that doesn't surprise me at all. The part that I still can't quite wrap my head around is that Bella's sitting out on the deck with family she's missed and friends she'll never let go of, knowing that everything is gonna be okay.

And this time...this time that's because of me instead of in spite of me. It's never shaken down like this before.

I know she's coming before I even hear or smell her. I always feel her, even when I can't.

She sits and we talk, and she kind of dresses me down a bit, but that's all okay.

_It's over, and she's still here._

And then there's just the faintest glimmer. Just the tiniest shining of love and concentration echoing from around Bella, and I have absolutely no idea when she figured out how to do it. We haven't even talked about it since that first time we tried to get her gift under control and I petulantly accused her of wanting to keep herself hidden from me.

It's just a little, almost nothing, but she's trying so hard and honestly, I could be happy with the sliver of love I feel from her for the rest of my life, so I tell her I feel her and I tease her a bit, just for fun. I let her believe she pulled her shield all the way down, because one day she'll learn how, and probably sooner than I thought; right now it doesn't really matter.

She's so fucking beautiful.

We don't come back to the house until after dawn, and Bella looks faintly embarrassed by the knowing glances and waggled eyebrows shot in our direction. I couldn't give two shits what they think of us.

That tiny scrap of a girl Seth saved looks a bit lost, but it's probably only because it seems Seth has finally turned in for the night, and all she has left to shield herself is the way she's situated herself next to Rose in a manner that reminds me of a shy child.

I give her my Library.

Peter and Char head off in one direction, Rose and Emmett take the other, and thank fucking God Bella and I _almost_ have the house to ourselves, because I wasn't kidding when I told her we had business to attend to. I have every intention of worshipping every single inch of her until someone knocks down the door to our room and demands we be social again.

I ignore the way Seth's sprawled out, asleep, on top of the coffee table in favor of little kisses and gentle nips at Bella's neck as we trip all over ourselves making our way to our room, where I make sure to show her each and every one of those little things I learned about myself out in the forest tonight; that I can kill without being a murderer, so long as it's for love, that sometimes compassion can shine so bright it blinds you into doing the right thing without you ever realizing it, even if it's not yours, and that Edward and Alice were just intersections along two paths that were always meant to merge.

The selfish fuckers don't even give us four hours, and it's less than one later that I'm wondering if maybe I'm going to have to start evicting people just to get some quality time in between Bella's legs.

It wouldn't be so bad, if it were just Emmett standing on the front lawn, insisting that if he doesn't need to escort Bree back to Carlisle then he sees no reason to leave, and Rose may as well go pack their shit up 'cause he's not stepping one foot off this property until Bella does—but there's also the fact that Char's looking at more paint swatches, Leah's snoring out on the deck again, Seth's still passed out on the coffee table in the living room—and I've got to find a way to get all these people _out_ of _my house._

"This ain't a mother-fuckin' hotel, Emmett," I scowl, but when I look to Bella she's got this look that's full of 'I understand' and 'I promise I won't be upset with you if you tell him no,' and I already know I've lost this one. It's totally worth it when the biggest damn grin spreads over her face, even though every single one of them knows that it's Bella that has me backtracking so quickly. "There are some outbuildings, I was thinking of renovating one of 'em. I guess we'll just...do that."

Bree's looking on curiously, trying to figure out what's going on, and I can actually feel her heart swell when Rose turns to her and asks, "When we get a place set up would you like to stay with us?"

Bree glances between Bella and I, and a small shudder of embarrassment runs its course through her before she nods emphatically. "I'd like that."

"They're not any better than we are," I point out, but Bree doesn't care. She's taken to looking at Rose like a Mom, and Bella and I are both perfectly okay with that. Bella's already told me she'd rather be a friend than a Mother, and shit, nobody's more maternal than Rose is. I've already got a runaway train screaming through my head, filled with all the ways we can help her get her gift under control, and it's a little bit weird to know that I don't want to do it just because the girl's kind of dangerous; I want to do it for Rose, so she can finally have that one thing she's always wanted.

We're working out the kinks of this tentative plan for far longer than I'd like—Emmett's even going so far as to draw up blue-prints to convert a derelict stable not too far away into a full on house. At first glance Bella looks excited and amused, but closer inspection reveals that the one particular sparkle that lights up her eyes when she's bouncing up and down on the inside is absent, and I wonder if she's as frustrated with these cock-blockers as I am.

Peter shoots a knowing smirk in my direction, and I roll my eyes before pulling Bella just a little closer so I can lay my cheek against her hair while she talks animatedly with Emmett about something or another.

And it's nice; the commotion of family and friends, the bounding and echoing of love vibrating all along my house, and this calm.


End file.
